Shadow Touched: A Paranormal Vampire Romance (A Touch of Vampire Book 1) by Becky Moynihan (great reads TXT) 📕

drop on all fours. Gulping in air, I dug my nails into the ground as a fiery need ripped through me. Surprised at how easily my nails slid into the packed dirt, I pulled them out again to inspect them. They were now long and wickedly sharp. Like claws. Was I turning into a freaking werewolf?

“McKenna.”

“Just . . . give me a moment,” I panted, sliding my nails—er, claws—in and out of the earth again. Something about the motion soothed me. Eased the burning ache between my thighs.

Or so I thought.

Without realizing it, I’d been rubbing my legs together. A moan slipped past my lips as the friction intensified. At the airy sound, I froze, shocked at what I’d just done in front of Lochlan. I bit my lip and tried to stand, but the feeling had me ensnared. It continued to pulse through me in punishing waves, and all I could do was whimper.

My body desperately needed something. And I had a sinking feeling that I wasn’t going anywhere until that need was fulfilled.

Lochlan crouched before me. “You’re in heat,” he said haltingly, as if the words had been forced from him. I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to. Did heat seriously mean what I thought it meant? He cleared his throat, his voice almost guttural as he added, “It rarely happens, but when it does, the urges won’t go away until the full moon has lost its pull, or . . .”

“Or what?” I said, still refusing to look at him.

“Or until it’s taken care of.”

I could actually hear Lochlan swallow, which only intensified the urges to the point of pain. I squeezed my trembling thighs together, gritting my teeth. Fates, it was him. My body was responding to him. “I think . . . I think you should go.” I dug my nails into the earth again.

He didn’t respond, and panic quickened my heartbeats.

“Lochlan. Leave.”

More silence.

“Lochlan.” My voice went shrill with desperation. Even saying his name sent a bolt of fiery pain through me.

“I can’t,” he eventually replied, and I internally screamed. “McKenna, look at me.” My stupid head rose without my permission. My stupid eyes locked with his, and I bit back a whimper. “I can help you,” he simply said.

Freaking fates, I knew exactly what he meant.

My body did too, eagerly responding by burning hotter and hotter with need and yearning. It wanted. It desperately wanted him. And it hurt to want. It hurt so bad. Biting my lip hard enough to draw blood, I forcefully shook my head.

He waited a beat, then, “I’ll carry you to the cabin. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

I shook my head again. Any contact with him would be too much. I was afraid of what I’d do. He didn’t push the subject further, which I was beyond grateful for. Still, my body was highly attuned to his. When he shifted to sit on the ground, I tracked the movement, wishing I could see his shape through the shadows. My imagination was doing a good job of conjuring it though.

At one point, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what he looked like naked. When my mind happily supplied the details, my mouth started watering. Was I seriously freaking drooling right now?

I remained on all fours, panting and trembling and burning with need for what felt like hours. The agony spread to my whole body, so sharp and brutal that I could hardly draw air. I fought against the urges. Reminded myself of how much I disliked Lochlan after the way he’d treated me. I silently cried, frustrated and scared. I should be stronger than this irrational need.

But, in the end, I lost. In the end, the urges consumed me entirely, and I could no longer deny them. In the end, I was powerless, absolutely powerless to resist.

I raised my trembling head, finding his eyes already on me. As if he’d been waiting for this very moment. I trembled harder. “H-how?” was the only thing I could manage to say.

But he must have known all along what would happen. Must have read my body language that was all but screaming for him. He shifted again, and a second later, he was behind me. My heart thundered when he gently grasped my shoulders and lowered me onto my side. Every nerve ending became painfully aware of him as he positioned himself directly behind me, his chest, stomach, and thighs brushing against me.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe when he placed his gloved hand on the curve of my waist and said, “There are ways to touch without skin contact.”

I almost combusted right then and there, my poor heart galloping in frenzied bursts. Every muscle in my body shook as I focused on his hand. He peeled the cape from my skin to expose my nakedness, but embarrassment couldn’t reach me. Not when all I wanted was his touch, his hands exploring my body in places no man ever had before.

His hand returned to my waist and I fisted the cape beneath me, squeezing my eyes shut. With excruciating slowness, he inched his hand downward, sliding the cold leather over the contours of my stomach. My body bucked, slamming into him, and he released a sharp hiss. I gasped as he dragged me flush against his hardness and held me there.

My body responded eagerly, rubbing against the impressive length. His hand on my stomach pressed harder, stilling my movements. I released a whimper, needing . . . “Help me,” I begged, not the least bit ashamed of the words. “Please.”

His breaths on my neck grew ragged, and I unclenched my thighs, wordlessly asking for what I wanted. His hand slowly inched downward again, but to the place I desperately wanted it to go. I thought I would die waiting for him to finally touch me. Thought the flames would consume me completely and I’d never know what it felt like.

But then he did.

And I cried out breathlessly, arching my back.

When his fingers lazily